Armor
by Schizophasia
Summary: Afterwards, they couldn’t think what to do with the armor. No warnings that I can think of.


Afterwards, they couldn't think what to do with the armor.

When the transmutation was over, it simply lay there in the middle of Mustang's basement, dead and motionless. Ed didn't give it any thought; he had to take care of Al, and the stupid hunk of metal could wait a little while.

It ended up waiting for quite a while. Alphonse was in poor condition, after all; he had difficulty remembering how to use his human body, and sometimes he fell asleep and woke up thinking that he was back in the armor. Nobody spared the time or thought for the iron container in the basement.

It would have taken longer, but then Mustang got fed up and demanded that Ed remove the giant transmutation circle from his floor. If anybody were to go down there and see, Fullmetal, suspicion would fall on him, and he didn't want to have anything more to do with breaking the law if he could help it. Getting involved in human transmutation, he said, was a bad image for him to portray if he intended to become Fuhrer. Edward grumbled for quite a while, that Mustang was a lazy bastard who should do it himself if he wanted to stay so clean. There were two things he didn't say: that he really just didn't want to leave Al (but they all knew it anyway), and that he it wouldn't be long before he gave up the name Fullmetal.

When Edward opened the door to the basement and turned on the lights and actually looked to see what damage he'd caused, the first thing he spotted was the armor. For a quick, painful moment, he thought he was looking at his brother again, but then he reminded himself that Al was upstairs and that the armor didn't have to mean anything anymore. He moved it to the side of the room, then transmuted all of the chalk on the floor into a small pile of the stuff. That was a lot easier to clean up. It was a shame, though, that he couldn't just make it disappear. Nevertheless, he was proud.

He thought that he'd used up quite a lot of chalk to make that transmutation circle perfect.

All of a sudden, Ed got the uncomfortable feeling that the armor was Al again, and he turned around just to check. The armor's eyes did not glow with life, because of course they weren't Al's. Ed told himself to stop thinking of stupid things like that. He went back upstairs, traveling slightly too fast for somebody who wasn't anxious at all, until he found Al in the kitchen. The younger Elric was on the phone, presumably with Winry, judging from the way he held the phone slightly away from his ear.

Al spoke quietly for a little while, looking around anxiously as though he didn't want to be overheard. When put the phone down, Ed cleared his throat loudly. Alphonse jumped, and then relaxed when he saw that it was Ed. "I thought you were Mustang," Al said. When Ed asked why he was so nervous, all he revealed was, "The next time Winry calls, I'm making you talk to her."

Ed raised his eyebrows, but didn't ask probe. He had a more important question. "What do you want to do with the armor?" he asked, hoping that Al wouldn't want to keep it for some twisted reason.

Al said he'd never thought about it before, but that it would probably be best if they gave it to Hohenheim. It _was_ his vintage armor, and since they'd burned his house down, they might as well return the last of his possessions.

Edward was in agreement with this plan even though it meant talking to Hohenheim, an idea that he'd disliked with a passion. Anything was better than having to keep it themselves.

Mustang, however, wasn't too pleased. He had offered his house to the Elric brothers, it was true, but that didn't mean that they could treat the place like it was theirs and bring _more _people in and stay for as long as they felt like it. He looked murderous when Al mentioned that Winry was also coming to Central. "Just get out of my house already," he moaned. Of course, the Elric brothers did no such thing.

That afternoon the doorbell rang, and everybody was trying to figure out how Winry had gotten to Central so quickly when Hawkeye let herself in. She'd come to see how Alphonse was getting on. They quickly brought her up to speed; Hawkeye said that if Winry was coming, then Al should get a haircut. She sounded as though she was trying very hard to not state outright that Al looked terrible.

Hawkeye offered to do it, but Ed wouldn't let her. He wanted to do it himself, because it had been too many years since he'd been able to take care of his brother properly and nobody was going to stop him from doing so now.

As it turned out, Edward had a considerable lack of knowledge in hair cutting, so Al's hair ended up looking more like a pile of straw than actual hair. Hawkeye tried her best to fix it, but there was only so much she could do.

So by the time Winry came, Al looked presentable enough, even though to be honest, she probably didn't even notice. Al was Al, after all, and she didn't care about his haircut as long as he was back to normal.

She didn't say anything at first when she saw Ed's arm, still metal and harsh and not real, but then she smiled and said that it appeared she was still necessary after all. Then she barged into the kitchen and, about thirty seconds after arriving, took over the house in preparation to bake an apple pie. When Mustang came to greet her, he was dismayed to find that not even Winry would respect the fact that it was _his_ house. But then he found out what she was doing, and he offered her his assistance should she need anything. Winry thanked him graciously, and Ed wondered if Mustang was being too courteous, and Al gave his brother a gleeful look that he wouldn't explain no matter how much Ed badgered him.

And that, Al decided, was the happiness that he'd been missing.

* * *

"Until you contact Hohenheim and comes here," Mustang reluctantly agreed, "then you can stay. After that, _please_ quit making my life difficult." And so this was the tentative agreement. There was a snag, however, and it was one that Mustang most certainly did not want to hit. Hohenheim had disappeared again, and it was just like right before Trisha had died only it was different. It was the same because he was nowhere to be found and nobody had seen him, just like before. It was different because they only wanted to give him something. They didn't care what happened to him after that, or at least Ed didn't. It didn't matter.

What did matter were the nights where Ed woke up in a panic because he could swear he'd heard Al's voice screaming from the basement, and when he looked over and saw his brother sleeping in the very same room and cursed himself for getting so alarmed over nothing. He could only be thankful that he didn't wake his brother up; Al slept like the dead, just like he'd always done when he was a kid.

Ed gave up the third night that it happened, and he stormed downstairs as quietly as he could manage and vowed to break that stupid nightmare-inducing armor into a thousand pieces. He went into the basement and glared at the armor that had caused so much trouble, and he was about to clap his hands together when he saw it.

He could have sworn that the eyes had just glowed, just the way that they had when Alphonse had inhabited the armor. He shook his head in denial; it was late, he was imagining things. He raised his hands again.

_Brother, don't do it!_

And that was all it took for him to turn and flee from the basement.

He returned to the room that was temporarily his to find Alphonse sitting up, quite obviously awake. "I had a dream that I was back in the armor again," he explained, and Ed was accepting enough until Al added, "I dreamed that you were trying to destroy me." Ed thought of his trip downstairs and decided not to tell his brother that that was exactly what he'd just done, but Al asked, "What are you thinking about, Brother?" and he knew he couldn't hide it forever.

He spoke quickly and quietly, as though he expected Al to disapprove of his actions, and when he finished he said, "Sorry."

To his surprise, Al said that it wasn't his fault and that he could do anything he wanted if the armor was being so troublesome. Ed nodded gratefully even though he wasn't sure Al could see his head move; then again, Al had somehow managed to sense his preoccupation with the armor.

He was satisfied for now, though not entirely unashamed that he'd gotten so hot and bothered by a random suit of armor – and it was _random_ now because it wasn't Al's armor any more – so he bid his brother good night even though it was probably near morning. It seemed like it was only a second later, however, that he heard Al call for him.

"Brother?"

He groaned to himself, and decided that if he didn't move the voice would go away, and he wouldn't have to go down into the basement again because he knew now that that was a waste of time.

"Brother!"

He opened his eyes and discovered that it really was Al talking this time, so it would be a good idea to actually pay attention. And listen he did; he listened to his brother describe how he'd just spent what felt like forever back in the armor, and how this wasn't the first time it had happened, and how he wasn't sure anymore if it was a dream or if it was real. And that was all it took before Ed resolved to do something about it, even though he wasn't sure how to proceed. He refused to let any unsure thoughts stop him, though. He was the Fullmetal Alchemist – for now at least – and when the Fullmetal Alchemist decided he wanted to get something done, he always made it happen.

Ed found himself in the basement again right after breakfast. Winry's meal had been excellent as usual, but nobody remembered to comment on it because there were more interesting matters to deal with; a letter had arrived. It was from a colleague of Hohenheim's, stating that he'd just managed to stop Hohenheim before he'd gotten transportation to Xing, and that he'd likely be on his way to Central before the letter arrived.

It hadn't registered at first with Ed, who'd been somewhat preoccupied at the time, but now he realized what it meant. If Hohenheim was indeed coming, then destroying the armor was out of the question, he realized as he stood in front of Al's old container.

He lifted the helmet from the armor, and gazed at the blood seal that was somehow still there. He smiled grimly to himself; normal suits of armor did not have blood seals, nor did they torment people in their sleep. To remove one problem was to remove the other. As he clapped his hands together for the second time, he had difficulty reminding himself that he was not damaging Al's soul. He brought his hands to the suit of armor.

"Stop!" Al's voice shrieked, and Ed looked around wildly to find his younger brother standing at the top of the basement stairs, clutching at his heart as though he was trying to hold on to it. This time, it wasn't the armor or his imagination speaking. All of a sudden, he couldn't persuade himself to damage the blood seal.

"Sorry," said Al breathlessly, "but…when I saw you doing that, I just sort of panicked, and…"

Ed let his hands drop to his sides. "I get it," he said softly.

* * *

They didn't talk about what had happened, or what was happening as time went on. Gradually, Ed got used to Al waking up in the middle of the night (he almost never complained of it happening during the day), convinced that he'd just been in the armor again. Every time Al apologized, Ed reminded him that he understood; that not too long ago, their places had been switched, when Ed had nightmares and Al was always awake. They didn't tell Winry, because they didn't want to worry her. They didn't tell Mustang, because there was no way he would have understood. They didn't tell Hawkeye, even though she might have been a good person to confide in, because they didn't want to admit to their weakness.

Then, Hohenheim came.

Mustang answered the door, because of course it was still his house and he still had the dubious honor of opening his own front door. He almost didn't see his sons at all; Ed was convinced that Hohenheim could come, take the armor, and leave without talking to him, and Al was trying to convince his brother to at least go and say hello. Eventually Al succeeded, and Hohenheim was lucky enough to witness the mistrust that still showed in Ed's eyes. Edward was cooperative enough, though, and Hohenheim didn't plan to stay too long. He hadn't been idle in the past few weeks, and he was anxious to get back to his work. What he would do with his old vintage armor, he had no idea, but it _was_ his, so he figured he might as well take it.

Before he left, Winry forced him to sit down and eat a slice of leftover apple pie. He looked at her and said that she reminded him of her mother; she told him that he shouldn't wander around so irresponsibly, and that he should at least contact them every now and then.

It was soon after that that Hohenheim left. When he did, Ed looked somewhat self-righteous and said that of course he wouldn't have actually stayed in one place. It was against his nature, which he had so aptly demonstrated so many years ago. After a few minutes of this attitude, nobody felt like talking about it.

Four days later, Ed and Al had their first real fight since Al had gotten his body back. It was something about Hohenheim, but as neither brother was willing to explain more than that, Mustang finally lost patience and kicked everybody out of his house.

* * *

He'd gotten a lot of funny stares as he'd lugged the conspicuous suit of armor with him to the train station. He'd be all too grateful when he could put it in the luggage area or something. Hohenheim cursed to himself. He was an alchemist; why couldn't he do something about this ostentatiously large and heavy armor? His own brain supplied him with the answer: you'll still have to carry it with you and it will still weigh the same, so you might as well just take it the way it was now.

That didn't mean he had to like it, he grumbled to himself, smiling apologetically at the passers-by who were giving him funny, disdainful looks.

He still wasn't sure what he'd do with it, since he had no official place of residence. The more he thought about it, the more he berated himself for not just leaving the accursed thing behind. The fact remained that he had the armor, though, and he wasn't going to change that now.

He had more than enough difficulty getting the armor onto the train, if only due to its immense bulk. One bribe and two desperate pleas later, he was told that the only place that had enough space was the sheep car, but he could leave it there so long as he didn't tell anyone, and he could pick it up when he got off of the train.

He'd just wrestled the suit of armor onto into the car when he suddenly found himself looking at its glowing red eyes. "What…?" he heard his son's voice ask, perplexed. The eyes looked around. "Oh, crap, I'm being treated as luggage again…" The eyes fixed on Hohenheim, though the rest of the armor did not move at all. "Father?"

* * *

**A/N: Time flies, whether I'm writing or not. Anyhow, I just finished NaNoWriMo this November (I won, but just barely), and I think I've realized that it's not as hard to just sit down and write as I thought. I think I'll be able to get myself into the habit of writing more often. So I'll definitely try to update more.**

**I just went back to read my old fanfics, and I nearly had a heart attack. They were _so bad_. Especially _Heiderich_; it makes me shudder to just think about.**


End file.
